11 May 2008

My mom is a neverending song in my heart of comfort, happiness, and being. I may sometimes forget the words but I always remember the tune. ~Graycie Harmon

As all mothers know we don't really understand our own mothers until we are mothers ourselves. As children we think we are invincible, that nothing can harm us. Innocence is bliss and makes our childhood carefree and happy as it should be. Little do we know of the worry we cause our mothers as soon as we step out of the door. My mother did not work...let me rephrase...did not work outside the home... as was possible in the the '60's.

My earliest childhood memory was of sitting in a guards booth miles from my home and eating a Cadbury chocolate bar. Apparently I had wanted to go to school with my brother and followed him for at least a mile to where the crossing guard helped the kids cross the street. He recognized me and took me to where my dad worked at the time. I was 2 years old but we lived in a time when you knew your neighbours. My mother would have been frantic not knowing where I was. Or the time that my sister was found on the third story fire escape of a building in downtown Cambridge swinging like a monkey.I grew up in a time when during the summer months we hopped on our bikes and were off on adventures with our friends. If we needed to go to the movies or to a friends house we walked. As long as we showed up by lunch or suppertime all was well with our little worlds and we would sit down to dinner with the entire family and relate our adventures for the day. Not until I was a mother myself did I realize what a huge sigh of relief it must have been for my mom to see us come walking through that door with tadpoles from the local pond or scrapes and bruises from building our tree fort in the woods. She would listen to our stories, give us a big hug, kiss away our tears, tuck us into bed and allow us to have wings to fly.

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If I had a single flower for every time I think about you, I could

walk forever in my garden.

~Attributed to Claudia Ghandi

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Fast forward to the '90's and I have a daughter of my own (excuse the '90's hair and clothes). I am a MOTHER and will always be. Times are different now, but not in the troubles of the world, but in our relationships with our children. My daughter and I started young with Mom and Me swimming classes and exercise classes. She was in everything from ballet, to T-ball, to figure skating...you name it she was there. We have taught our children that they can accomplish anything, they are overachievers and expect a lot from this world. My daughter is 21 now and has always been the "apple of my eye". I have always been proud of her accomplishments and I must have done something right because she is now in her third year of university...only another 4 to go!!! I learned from my own mother, who in turn learned from hers. We'd like to protect our children as our own mothers wanted to protect us. We are always there to be our children's biggest cheerleaders to let them know the world is a place full of discovery and joy!! She has grown into a beautiful butterfly and has spread her wings.

So in honour of tradition and mothers everywhere I am offering my moms recipe for these traditional tarts. For years my mom had only the memory of these tarts because my grandmother passed away when my mom was 11. Finally mom found the recipe through an aunt and has made them ever since, but, usually on special occasions. If you are of British background these will be very familiar to you!!

My daughter is taking me on a picnic and a hike in honour of the day. So ciao for now:D

Place a small amount of jam in each pastry shell. Cream butter and sugar, add rice flour and ground almonds . Add beaten egg and a few drops of extract. Put a good spoonful of mixture in each tart shell on top of the jam. Bake at 375degrees for 35-40 minutes.

To my Mom.....

H - helpful

A - always there

P - protective

P - patient

Y - youthful

M- memory maker

O - original

T - tender

H - happy

E - excited

R - reliable

S - sacrificing

D - dedicated

A - angelic

Y - your best friend

You are reading this post on More Than Burnt Toast at http://morethanburnttoast.blogspot.com. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to the author/owner of More Than Burnt Toast. All rights reserved by Valerie Harrison.

Happy Mother's Day Val. What a lovely tribute both to your mother and to your daughter. Subconsciously yesterday I made a dessert my mother used to make and only today I realized why. Unfortunately I was working today and I came home just a while ago and it's late now to post about it. Congrats on the award from Rosie. Be ready to get one from me as well.

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My blog More Than Burnt Toast has been my passion for almost 9 years and has evolved with me over time as I have gained confidence in the kitchen. Follow my travels through Italy and Greece one recipe at a time, upcoming cooking classes at local Okanagan wineries and restaurants, as well as daily experimentation in my own kitchen. Every day we should be excited about what we are eating even if it just means making use of a wonderful find at our local farmers market. I look forward to getting to know you.